


Welcome to the Cosmic Jungle

by xseaxwitchx



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, So much angst, a DC x Voltron crossover, any ships or implied ships are within canon compliance, ignore that for this fic, let's hold up on the ignoring, my own tamaranean ocs, obvious canon divergence, or I might incorporate actually, shall we?, so wherever season 5 goes, some fluff in others, the comics canon in this is a mash of pre-nu52 and post-nu52, this has been floating in my head for a while, this is post-season 4 for voltron, well it will be in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 04:59:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xseaxwitchx/pseuds/xseaxwitchx
Summary: No one asked for this. No one asked for the distress signal to lead to a bloodbath. No one asked for the Paladins to play saviors to a warrior race. No one asked for the hardship that would follow the catastrophe.Who knows, though? Maybe they’ll forge friendships through the hardships, the impossible becomes possible, and saving a sector of the galaxy isn’t so bad with experienced, trained vigilantes.Sometimes it’s what one doesn’t ask for that one needs the most.





	Welcome to the Cosmic Jungle

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm basically pouring my heart into this project, I'm asking if a beta reader is available because I would then feel more comfortable about the entire thing. If you're interested, shoot me a message on my tumblr! I hope no one is too ooc.

The artificial light of daytime set a stark contrast to the neverending darkness of space. The bridge lacked lifeforms that would otherwise occupy the room, all the inhabitants enjoying a “midday” meal. With the lack of lifeforms does not necessarily mean the lack of life; each inhabitant made their own marks not visible to the naked eye: the youngest, the Green Paladin, made her mark through the low hum of the sleeping display hub, which she played with to challenge her technological skills; the two middle children, the Yellow Paladin and the Red Paladin (who still dons the Blue Lion’s colors), made their marks through the atmosphere that, while still, felt full of life and ease; the other female, the Blue Paladin, had her mark made for her from her father, her life-force connected directly to the ship’s power, and remains ever-growing in strength; the eldest human, the Black Paladin, made his mark through strategizing on the display hub, the ship locking in and tracking his pattern of thinking; the eldest on board, the Head of the Army, made his mark through guiding the young ones, ensuring they received the basic necessities.

The former Red Paladin and current youngest Blade of Mamora member, though, made no mark on the ship, but in the hearts of his teammates. No, he’s not really gone, but a certain emptiness trails behind him, a small hole, when he leaves.

A sharp alert interrupted the calm atmosphere of the bridge. The noise blurted dully throughout the ship, alerting the inhabitants inside. A clatter of silverware replaced cherry talk as they ran towards the sound. Feet of both Alteans and Humans struck the floor feverishly, rushing to get to their destination before anything critical could happen.

The princess of peoples no more crossed the threshold first, straight to the center of the room. She placed her hands waist-high, the columns needed to steer the ship appearing from below. The display hub powered up, showing the approximate location of the distress signal sent to, as it appeared, anyone willing to help.

The eldest took his place beside the princess, studying the display while the other Paladins took their respective seats to look personally at the coordinates.

“Allura, these coordinates are from the Licant Sector,” the eldest said.

“The what sector?” questioned the now-Red Paladin.

“The Licant Sector. That’s the sector where the Tamaraneans are,” answered the princess, Allura.

“What’s so important about that sector? There’s a distress signal, we help.”

“No, Lance, that’s what worries me: they need help. The Tamaraneans, as far as we knew, are a warrior race of people, very fierce, very dedicated. If they need help, their trouble must be astronomical.”

“So we need to form Voltron?” questioned the youngest inhabitant.

“Precisely.”

Allura set to creating a wormhole to travel faster to their destination, worry gnawing at her gut. The other Paladins ran out, headed for the hangar to prepare to jump into the heat of battle.

When the ship completed its entry through the wormhole, both Allura’s and her mentor’s blood ran cold. Carnage laid before their eyes: pieces of ships long destroyed floated in the darkness, the pilots’ bodies frozen still and startlingly blue; many surviving ships bore extensive damage; the Tamaranean fleet kept trying to retreat, but to no avail; the Galra fleet barely had a dent in it, no doubt reinforcements came in earlier.

“Coran, pilot the ship and attempt to stay out of sight,” Allura said, disbelief lacing her voice.

“Of course, Princess,” her mentor, Coran, replied.

Allura redirected the controls to Coran, then raced down the hallways towards the hanger to enter the Blue Lion. Her heart raced, blood rushing into her ears and pounding into her skull, a chant of panic.

***

“Kori! As anyone answered the distress signal yet?!” Roy yelled as he struggled to keep his footing as blows kept landing on the retreating ship. Stumbling, he finally made his way to Kori, gripping the back of her seat to ensure he doesn’t fly towards the side of the ship and get a concussion--that’ll be the last thing he needs with three of the batboys currently knocked out from either malnutrition, a hit to the head, or something else no one had time to check before the boys were placed into the healing tubes.

“I don’t know! We can only hope!” Kori yelled back at her boyfriend, more focused on trying to steer the ship away from the impending Galra fleet as her vessel held the most injured fighters.

As she dived the ship to avoid an ion cannon, a wormhole appeared to her left, the scanners going crazy with a  momentary interference of bent time and space. She had to force herself to focus on avoiding incoming fire instead of on the emerging ship from the wormhole.

Roy, on the other hand, watched in awe as a white--castle, not ship? Maybe both? A two-in-one deal?--and blue craft of some sort slowly came out the wormhole. His face split into a big grin as he hollered in joy, his gut telling him help arrived.

The ship jostled terribly as another shot got the left side, causing the entire deck to erupt into shouts and orders, Tamaraneans bustling in and out.

Kori’s display showed two other enemy fighters flanking the ship, essentially boxing the ship in with no hope of escape because the ship’s weapons became out of commission to divert power to the medical bay.

“Stop,” Kori loudly commanded. The bustling halted, the talking and shouting ceasing. Looking around, even the least observant person could tell the fear and anger written on each person’s face in that moment. Everybody knew why she commanded them to stop: no hope of coming out alive.

She took a moment to gather herself, attempting to even her breathing pattern. “You’ve all fought bravely. I’m proud to have commanded you all, and ser--what?”

In the middle of her speech, a streak of red and white passed the window. The silence swelled.

Not even a minute later, a red and white lion shaped-ship placed itself in front of the window. On Kori’s display, a beep sounded, slicing the tense silence.

She answered. “What is it you want?”

The frequency crackled for a minute before clearing, being filtered into the room through the speakers. “Hiya! I’m the Red Paladin of Voltron, and we’re here.”

Kori raised an eyebrow. “You sound quite young, Paladin, but we are eternally grateful for your assistance,” she said skeptically.

“I am young; not a child, obviously. Anyway, anything else you need?”

“We have many injured on board and our ship will barely take the next hit. Two more and we’re done for.”

“Okay. Head to the blue and white giant ship that you might’ve seen come through the wormhole. It’s possibly hiding behind a planet, so here are the coordinates.”

On the large display in the center of the room, a new set of coordinates displayed on the screen, glowing green instead of red. “Gynfrand’r, set the ship’s autopilot to those coordinates. I’m going to check on the injured. Roy, come with me and I can have you check the power and see if we can divert any more to the medical bay. Thank you, Red Paladin.”

As soon as she cut the connection, she hauled Roy and herself off in the direction of the medical bay while the Red Lion took off to join the others in battle.

The bustle returned to the bridge, guarded relief settling in the atmosphere. They may not be able to refuel then go back home right now, but at least they’ll survive this battle.

***

Voltron sliced through each Galra ship with ease, the completion of the destruction left to the remaining Tamaranean pilots.

Each Paladin had a good time, trading quips and jokes every so often. Lance informed the others of his encounter with the command ship and Coran so they don’t start bombarding the Tamaraneans with questions and Coran doesn’t mistake the command ship for a new Galran design.

The remaining Galra warships that Voltron didn’t destroy begin to retreat, knowing if they stuck around they sealed their fate. The Paladins nearly cheered, stopping when something disturbing floated in front of them: a Tamaranean pilot, long deceased, frozen, with skin an unnerving blue, a leg ripped off with ligaments and part of a bone sticking out, both arms bent at severely wrong angles with bone poking out the skin, and about half the body burned to nearly a crisp.

While each Paladin took in the sight in a state of shock, Shiro felt he received the worst of it. The dead, dull green eyes of the Tamaranean stared into the eyes of the head of Voltron, subsequently, then, into the eyes of Shiro. That blank stare sent shivers up his spine, but he couldn’t look away, as if the eyes told him, “You’ve failed me and my fellow warriors; you’ve failed your job as Voltron; you’ve _failed_ your promise.”

He swallowed, the dead silence of the comms only adding to his increasing feelings of inadequacy. Finally tearing his eyes away, he spoke into the comms, “Disassemble Voltron and get back to the castle. We’ll sort things out there.”

His command fell on deaf ears as the other Paladins kept staring, no longer at the Tamaranean, but the scene behind her. In the distance many more bodies floated, many more ships damaged beyond repair; to perfectly sum up the scene, a bloodbath, slaughter. Never have any of them seen anything like it, and all felt sick to their stomachs.

“I said,” Shiro repeated, tone more forceful and grating on the comms, “disassemble Voltron and get back to the castle.”

This time, everyone else snapped out of their reveries, following Shiro’s command, but keeping the comm system eerily silent.

Each lion took on autopilot, sensing the distress of their Paladins, heading towards the castle’s location. Each Paladin lost themselves in thought. Each Paladin blamed him-/herself for something or another.

From the aftermath, barely a fourth of the original Tamaranean forces survived, each ship traveling through the debris to find and carry as much of their dead as possible. Unfortunately, there might be too much.

***

Back at the castle, the Lions entered the hangars as they usually did, opening their mouths to let their respective Paladins out. As soon as Hunk stumbled out of his, he ran down the hallway, clutching his stomach and keeping a fisted hand to his mouth.

They all met in the middle after traveling their hallways, no words spoken. Until Allura spoke up.

“My apologies, Paladins, but I must go seek the commander or highest ranking official,” she announced to the group, stalking off in an effort to keep her composure. Lance reached out to her before curling his hand into a fist, then dropping it to his side with a sigh.

They took off their helmets in synch, resting the helmets underneath their arms. Shiro’s body laced with tension, anger and frustration seeping into his bones. Lance let out another sigh, his body going limp with defeat. Pidge ran a hand through her hair, face scrunched into a frown and body tight with a need to know something, but she didn’t know what.

“That was…” she started.

“...a bloodbath? Yeah,” Shiro finished.

“I don’t want to see something like that ever again,” Lance said, voice heavy with desperation.

“Unfortunately, Lance, there’s a great chance we might see something like that again. This is war we’re waging against the Galra empire and civilizations with warships will fight back,” Shiro told Lance in earnest, trying and failing to keep a neutral expression.

“But so many have died! Logistically, wouldn’t it make sense for them to send a distress signal and wait?” Pidge supplied as she adjusted her glasses in nervousness.

“Humans have fought each other over pieces of paper; do you honestly think people are going to wait for help in any other species? Especially if they’re a warrior race?” Lance said.

“Point taken. But where’s Hunk?”

All three looked around at Pidge’s question, just noticing the lack of Yellow Paladin. Lance lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe he went to vomit; I know I don’t feel so good after what we just saw,” Lance guessed, pressing a hand to his stomach for emphasis.

“Possibly,” Pidge answered.

“I’ll be on the bridge and I expect everyone else there within the next ten minutes,” Shiro said, starting to move and travel down the main hallway to his destination.

Lance and Pidge journeyed to their rooms, replacing their armor with more comfortable clothes, then headed to the bridge.

Halfway down the hallway, Hunk jogged up from behind them and joined their leisurely pace.

“Hey, guys,” Hunk greeted. He wore his regular clothing, sans headtie, most likely forgetting it after vomiting.

“We’re headed to the bridge, right? I honestly thought Shiro wouldn’t want to talk about the battle for a couple of days at least. Maybe it’s to meet the man in charge,” Hunk rambled, nerves spiking in his system.

“That’s a very good possibility. If I’m correct, the fact that they’ve connected to the castle means they’re most likely going to stay for some time,” responded Pidge.

Lance opted to say nothing, his mood brought down by not only what they witnessed, but also the demeanor Allura had as if trying to distance herself from the others.

Lance became lost in his thoughts, his feet carrying him to the bridge. Pidge and Hunk started talking about some technological crap Lance still didn’t understand. Sure, he knew the basics (he had to for his piloting) but sometimes his best friends go off on tangents he can’t keep up with.

Before any of them knew it, they crossed the threshold into the bridge, looking around at the other bodies inhabiting the area. The three Paladins craned their necks slightly to look at the Tamaraneans on deck. Each orange-colored visitor stood tall (even the couple of women), essentially either making Shiro look average height or on the short side. And a human with red hair? Wait, what?

Everyone turned to look on the newcomers, Shiro’s face a display of annoyance.

“You’re about 10 minutes late,” he stated, annoyance filtering through his voice.

Mumbled apologies coursed their way through the three briefly before they moved closer to the display hub at the center.

“These are the other Paladins,” Allura spoke up. “The bigger one is Hunk, the Yellow Paladin,”--he gave a sheepish wave when Allura motioned towards him--”the shortest one is Pidge, the Green Paladin,”--she responded with a, “hiya!” when Allura motioned towards her--”the last on is Lance, the Red Paladin”--he gave a smile wave and a smirk when Allura motioned towards him--”and you already know Shiro and I.”

The Tamaraneans nodded, acknowledging Allura’s words.

“Pleasure to meet the rest of our saviors,” Kori spoke up. “I am Princess Koriand’r of Tamaran and commander of the demolished fleet.”

As she spoke, she wandered towards the three Paladins. After she introduced herself, she shook hands with each Lance, Hunk, and Pidge. They stood there confused at how an alien knew an Earth custom. Kori definitely took notice of their facial expressions.

“Why the confusion, young ones? Did I do something wrong?” she asked. Her head turned to look at Roy, who took to inspecting the tips of his bow.

He looked up to see her looking at him. “Not at all, Kori. Maybe they’re just a bit stunned you know an Earth custom.”

“But why? I have lived on that planet for the past few years, this should come as no surprise.”

Roy opened his mouth, then closed it again because she raised a valid point. The Teen Titans, now former, were well-known in America at least, so judging by the others’ accents, they should know about Kori as Starfire and him as Arsenal.

“Oh, no Princess, er, Commander, you did nothing wrong. But, uh, wouldn’t we know if you were living on Earth for the past few years?” Hunk stated.

Kori gave a small smile, then patted Hunk on the head. “Well,” she said, “maybe not your Earth.”

She wandered back over to Roy’s side, turning to face one of her communications officers and started speaking native Tamaranean. Meanwhile, Roy’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, his bow momentarily forgotten; Lance, Pidge, and Hunk all shared a shocked and curious look with each other; Coran, Allura, and Shiro all shared a similar look; the Tamaraneans either took no notice or failed to be bothered by what Kori said.

The hosts decided to drop it now and possibly bring it up another time.

“How long do you plan on staying aboard?” Coran inquired.

“Only until our ship is repaired. Considering the damage done, it might take a few days, but no more,” a Tamaranean male spoke up, a female nodding her head in agreement next to him. “Wires need to be repaired and replaced, the forcefield needs to be recalibrated, and the outer siding needs repair.”

“Ooo, can I help?” Roy said, hand shooting up like an excited child. He held basic knowledge of how Tamaranean warships worked after repairing some of Kori’s downed one and helping with diverting some of the power supply to the medical bay.

“Of cour--”

“No,” Kori cut off her head engineer. “He will stay with the injured, monitoring them and checking in with us for any sign of critical damage, increasing or starting due to the lack of healing tanks. The rest of us will help you and Nerfytim’r with the repairs to the warship.”

Roy’s hand slowly went down, his eyes downcast; honestly, he looked forward to helping out with the ship repairs, but if Kori needs him somewhere else, well, he’ll be there.

“I can have one of the Paladins escort Roy to the medical bay unless he remembers where it is?” Allura offered.

“Please, I’ve only made the journey from there to here once--I don’t remember crap,” Roy responded. His eyes went wide as he realized what he said. “I’m so sorry, Princess; I didn’t mean to sound rude and vulgar, it’s just sometimes I can’t help what comes out of my mouth.”

He sheepishly averted his eyes, bringing up a hand to scratch the back of his neck. Allura smiled, being on the receiving end of that stick multiple times.

“It’s quite alright,” she said. She turned to the shortest Paladin. “Pidge, please escort Roy to the infirmary.”

“Of course, Allura,” Pidge responded, “this way, Redhead.” She motioned for Roy to follow her as she strode toward the door, exiting the bridge with the redhead trailing behind her. They both heard the beginnings of a conversation regarding sleeping arrangements and meal times being planned as the door closed behind them.

Roy slung his bow over his shoulder and across his back, looking at this small girl. She might’ve been about 5’2”, pushing 5’3”; definitely Italian with the color of her hair, eyes, and height. He couldn’t be sure of her build due to her wearing baggy clothing, but if they’ve been at the Voltron thing for about 2-3 years like Shiro estimated, she’d be lithe, like Spoiler.

“So,” Roy began, attempting to make conversation, “I have a nickname, now.”

Pidge looked up at him (not that he’s particularly tall, mind you, he’s about 5’9”, so not even average height) and shrugged. “I guess. If you don’t want me calling you that, I can just call you Roy,” she said.

“No no, I like the nickname. Keep it. Anyway, what’s your interest?”

“Technology. Not a big fan of nature and nature’s not a big fan of me; sun radiation roasts my skin easily and there are too many bugs.” She made a disgusted face at the end to emphasize her point and Roy snorted. He couldn’t say he agreed exactly because he like the outdoors--it’s a nice break from all the squinting and screen glares that come from dealing with technology. Plus, the outdoors gave a great realistic training ground for things such as distractions or wind trajectory and velocity.

Pidge, surprisingly, found it easy to talk to this man as if they’ve known each their whole lives. She wished to know why, but she let it go, not wanting to make things awkward.

“How about you?” she asked.

“Me? I love technology, too; except I actually like nature occasionally.”

Pidge’s eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together, full of glee. “Do you happen to know Tamaranean tech?”

Roy raised an amused eyebrow at her reaction, but just as full of glee; he had wisdom to pass on to this tiny person and he’s going to take advantage of it. A grin found itself on his face.

“I know the basics from Kori’s ship, but the one attached to your ship has been updated and I barely know anything about it because I just helped divert part of a power supply. That’s why I wanted to help, to get a better look at the upgrades, but unfortunately, I can’t.”

“Could you get a full 3D-scan of the warship then bring it back to the bridge so we can study that?”

Roy thought for a moment, surprised he failed to come up with that solution sooner. He brought a hand to his mouth, his forefinger tapping his lips.

“I could ask Kori for that.”

“Yes!” Pidge jumped, pumping her fist in the air. “You know who else is a tech nerd? My older brother. I don’t know if you’ll be able to meet him, but I want a copy of that scan to show him.”

“What? This castle not fulfilling your needs?”

“This castle is 10,000 years old and contains not only tech, but also magic; it gets hard to study the purely scientific when magic gets involved. Ah, here’s the elevators.”

They both stopped in front of three elevators, Pidge pressing a button to go down on the middle one. The door immediately slid open and the two stepped in. Pidge pressed the button that read _Infirmary_ on it in Altean (she’s been studying, so she doesn’t need her translation tool for the elevator buttons).

For the duration of the short elevator ride, they waited in companionable silence. Pidge lost herself briefly in thought while Roy studied the language by the buttons. He knows it looks similar to some Earth languages, but can’t quite put his finger on which ones. That frustrated him.

The elevator door swiveled open and they both stepped out into the white hallway, proceeding to the first of six doors.

The door opened after Pidge scanned her hand for entry. That’s when Roy realized he might have to ask Allura about the scanners for the visitors. Roy crossed the threshold without a second thought, Pidge trailing behind him.

When she came in, she immediately noticed the three boys in the room: all had black hair except the one Roy went to had a white streak in the middle, and, upon closer inspection, all had faintly similar features. Although she did notice the extreme varying heights among them. _Brothers, most likely,_ she thought.

She made her way to where Roy stood, facing and standing on the other side, closely inspecting the boy’s face. Roy checked his vitals, injuries, and fluffed his pillow, then readjusted the blanket covering the man.

“Are they brothers?” she asked, eyes not leaving the sleeping man’s face.

“Legally, yes,” answered the redhead. “I mean, this one is also legally dead, but that’s a different can of worms altogether. But anyway, this one is Jason Todd, codename: Red Hood, the one in the middle is Dick Grayson, codename: Nightwing, and the farthest one is Tim Drake, codename: Red Robin.”

“Like the restaurant?” Pidge asked in amusement.

No matter how many times that joke got made, Roy would never tire of hearing it. He snorted.

“You’re not the only one to make that joke, ya know,” he responded cheekily. “This man here, Jason, is also one of my best friends. He helped me a lot, more than he knows actually.”

“As he now? How?” Pidge cursed her curious nature.

“Yeah, I, uh, I’m a former drug addict, cocaine, because things weren’t going well with my surrogate father and life in general. A frenemy of our helped me little, but Jason helped me stay put and away from that life.” He looked down at Jason fondly, a genuine smile gracing his lips.

He looked up and moved over to the middle man. Pidge changed her direction and settled herself on the side of the bed that remained empty. Roy repeated what he did with Jason. “How about this one?” Pidge inquired.

“Ah, the lovely Dick Grayson. Kori’s ex, and one of the people with the biggest heart you’ll ever meet. He helps as best he can, but the most I know about him is what Jason tells me and that’s that Dick is too good for his own good,” answered Roy. He patted the man’s shoulder before moving to the final and smallest one.

Pidge and Roy took their respective positions once again, and Roy spoke as he repeated what he did for the other two.

“This here is restaurant boy. Smart, analytical, also loves technology--this is all from Jason, by the way--and apparently never sleeps; lives on coffee and memes, but could kick anyone’s ass and look ‘real pretty’ doing it. Again, Jay’s words, not mine; I haven’t got a chance to get a good look at his fighting skills. I think you two might along real well if the way you perked up at my mentioning he loves tech is anything to go by.”

Pidge’s cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment at her subconscious action. She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, maybe I like meeting new people to discuss tech with. Don’t judge me, old man.”

“I’m not that old. Dude, I’m only 24,” Roy responded, clutching his chest in faux hurt and gasped for theatrics. “C’mon, we gotta check on the Tamaranean soldiers.”

Pidge scanned her hand again, the door opening, them crossing, and the door closing as they headed to the next room. Roy bustled around, doing to each Tamaranean (about seven in each room) what he did to Jason, Dick, and Tim.

“How did the battle start, anyway? And are you human?”

Roy snorted at her last question. “First, yes, I’m human. 110 percent. Take a blood sample if you want. And second, the battle started by the Galra attacking us first. We weren’t protecting any planet, which is why our location probably seemed weird. But anyway, we were about to contact the people of a nearby planet to refuel and finalize our rescue plan when the Galra came into view and I guess took us for a rebel group.”

In the middle of his explanation, Pidge got confused. “Wait, Allura said the Tamaraneans lived in this sector. Was one of those planets their home planet or not?”

Roy turned to face her, thinking. “All I know is that yes, one of those planets is Tamaran, but the Tamaraneans no longer occupy it. Some gigantic war or another you’ll have to ask Kori or the others about. But there’s apparently some peace treaty or something weird like that, so now they’re on friendly terms.”

Pidge remained somewhat confused, so dropped the subject.

Roy stopped his explanation as he finished with the room, then they both headed to the next.

“As I was saying, we got attacked first on an assumption. Then Kori thought to send some fighters to check if the Galra ship had any prisoners on it.”

“They only had the three boys?” Pidge interrupted.

He sent her a forlorn look. “They were the only prisoners alive.”

He went back to his work.

“Then how did you come to be on the Tamaranean warship? How did the boys get captured? How’d they get into space without someone noticing?”

“I got on the Tamaranean warship because I was bored and wanted to spend time with my girlfriend. She may or may not have also indirectly kidnapped me when she responded to her ship calling to her.”

Pidge raised a brow.

“As for Dick and Tim? I haven’t the faintest idea. Possibly a mission in space and that’s where they got captured. Jason got captured when we tried to help a planet with their agriculture.”

Pidge seemed satiated, for now, so she asked no further questions, opting to stay quiet and help Roy when he needed it.

Every now and then, she heard him muttering to himself under his breath, but she could never figure out what he muttered.

After checking the last room, they headed back to the elevators. That’s when Pidge had an idea.

“Hey, have you ever had space goo?” she asked.

“Have I ever had what now?” he asked, whipping his head down to look at her. A mischievous grin painted her features and Roy knew that he got himself in trouble by asking because he worn the exact same expression when he planned to cause trouble that usually followed with an explosion.

“This is going to be fun. We’ll head to the kitchen to get some,” she said as nonchalantly as she could.

Roy feared for his life in that moment.

***

“There. The only handprints missing are Roy’s and the patients’ in the infirmary wing. They’ll be scanned in as soon as they wake,” Allura said, removing Kori’s hand from the data scanner so the visitors could access low-level security areas.

“We are eternally grateful for your help, Princess Allura,” Kori said, bowing her head slightly in respect.

“Since we’ve arranged the basic necessities, are any of you hungry?”

The Tamaraneans thought for a moment, the idea of hunger escaping them until now, each stomach growling at the indirect mention of food. All of them, including Kori, sported small blushes of embarrassment as the low rumble of combine stomachs could be heard.

Allura smiled, as did Shiro, both totally understanding of that feeling.

“C’mon,” said Shiro, walking away and waving them towards him, “we have food in the kitchens. Hope you don’t mind space goo.” He smiled sheepishly at the end of his sentence as the door opened and six Tamaraneans, one Allura, and one Coran followed him out.

Kori asked a question in the native Tamaranean tongue, then it turned into a full-blown conversation with her crew.

“So, we do we actually know anything about Tamaranean biology to help the soldiers or do we have to play by ear from them?” Shiro asked Allura and Coran, gesturing back to the lively conversation behind them.

“Worry not, dear Shiro, for we have many books on many species, and Tamaraneans happen to be one of them. Just use a translator and you should be fine,” Coran replied, dismissing Shiro’s worry with a wave of his hand.

Shiro took the answer for now, planning on asking the others about it as well. One thing he did have to admit he liked about having the Tamaraneans on board was he doesn’t feel like a giant anymore. He happened to be the tallest of team Voltron, Coran included, and some days he really wished he could change his height.

The way to the kitchens stayed relatively quiet between the leading three while the six in the back continued their conversation, an occasional laugh or gasp here and there. Avoiding being boisterous, the Tamaraneans kept their conversation shushed, allowing the tapping of nine footfalls to echo the hallway.

The closer they got to the kitchens, the clearer screaming became. Allura and Coran exchanged a fearful look with one another, then ran to the kitchen doors, everyone else trailing behind. When they rounded the corner, the kitchens displayed utter chaos.

Where the space goo dispenser mounted the wall seated Roy and Pidge, hiding behind a kitchen counter; on the other side sat Hunk and Lance, assaulting the counter Roy and Pidge hid behind while hiding behind the other set of kitchen counters. The room filled with laughter and happy shrieking.

Roy and Pidge peeked out on either side to find their opponents no longer assaulting them with space goo. Still not noticing the additional company, Roy and Pidge then faced each other, gathered a hand-size full of space goo each, then stood up to launch it. Before the had a chance, though, Allura spoke.

“What in heaven’s good name is going on here?” she addressed the culprits loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. Lance and Hunk slowly stood up from behind the other counter, those two having at least the dignity to look ashamed; in Hunk’s case, he felt properly ashamed.

Each party involved dripped with space goo, chunks of it clinging to some clothes and bigger goops slowly descending to the floor. Roy and Pidge held no shame, goofy smiles etched on their faces, neither bothering to put the space goo in their hands down.

Space goo redecorated the kitchen walls, counters, and floors. Allura’s face fell into one of disdain, a frown settling on her face and annoyance a glint in her eyes. She put both hands on her temples, rubbing at a headache she felt coming on.

Shiro crossed his arms, looking utterly disappointed in his other Paladins; hell, he felt disappointed in the older man, and, boy, that felt interesting to say the least, to be disappointed in a stranger that Shiro guessed to be in his early-to-mid twenties. The fact the man held no shame whatsoever certainly lent no help.

Coran, on the other hand, tried to hold back laughter, tears forming in his eyes at the effort.

“We were just having fun, Allura,” Pidge shrugged, swiping some space goo off her face and sticking it in her mouth, humming in mock pleasantry.

“Yeah, nothing to worry about. We can clean it up, no problem,” Hunk offered.

“Who started it?” Kori inquired. Her voice held no judgment, just curiosity. Everyone directed their attention to her, her voice a welcome change of calm and curiosity.

“Well, I started it by flicking this crap at Pidge, then she flicked some back at me. Before an all-out war happened, those two”--here Roy motioned to Lance and Hunk--”came in. There were quick introductions before Pidge flicked some at Lance, then Lance nailed me in the shoulder. Of course, he froze, then started to apologize. I just threw some more at his face. Then we split into teams and we waged war in the name of justice,” Roy explained.

Shiro and Allura sighed. Kori started to giggle, finding the situation funny. Because Coran heard her giggles, he no longer could hold back his laughter and let out hearty chuckles. Pretty soon, everyone except for Allura and Shiro joined in laughing, all of them finding the situation hilarious for one reason or another.

Kori broke away from the group, moving towards Roy. She lifted his chin from where it touched his chest, then swiped a piece of goo and stuck it in her mouth. Roy studied her face, watching carefully for a change in facial expression. Subconsciously his hands went to settle on her hips and her free arm rested on his left shoulder.

To the disappointment of Roy, Kori’s face remained neutral.

“This is not bad. Much blander than Earth food, much better than our rations,” Kori said thoughtfully, tapping a forefinger on her chin.

“Are you kidding me?!” Roy said in disbelief. “This shit’s horrible.”

“But most likely that way due to the structure of the food to be beneficial to the maximum. Last I remember Earth food that tastes delicious is also unhealthy.”

“Valid point,” Roy mumbled, averting his eyes down to the side. Kori took his chin once more and placed a quick kiss on his lips, turning herself loose of Roy’s hold.

She picked up a glob of goo, smiling sweetly as she said, “Now, where did this leave off? Oh, right. Here.”

Kori launched the goo at Lance, nailing his face which had him stumbling back a little. Kori’s smile turned into mischief as she picked up another glob. She soon felt a glob hit her shoulder, albeit weakly. She turned to Hunk, knowing he threw it. On his face, he possessed a nervous smile, stance fully ready to sprint away.

“Is that all you have, Yellow Paladin?” she cooed, then proceeded to nail Hunk in the chest. His eyes went wide in disbelief.

Lance wiped at the goo in his face and made a pathetic ball-like shape in his hands, a smirk playing on his face. “Oh, you’re on, Princess,” he said before throwing the goo, hitting her arm.

“Now you, Red Paladin, have an arm! C’mon, have some fun!” She waved at the others to join, Coran and her two engineers joined Lance and Hunk, one of her communications officers joined her, Roy, and Pidge, and Shiro finally surrendered and joined them as well. The other three Tamaraneans opted to stay back and watch, and Allura just sighed, walking out the door to get supplies from the cleaning closet.

Shrieks of happiness and loud laughter trailed behind her the farther away she walked. Her walk felt lonely as she finally left the sounds of the kitchen behind. She wanted to join, she really did, but she had responsibilities, they all did. Maybe her upbringing of properness barred her from having that kind of fun with other royalty. As far as she knew, the Tamaraneans held the same regard, so why would Koriand’r act with such carefreeness in the presence of another royal?

Thoughts plagued her mind and questions rung in her ears as she made her way to the kitchen cleaning closet. Why the architects built it so far from the actual kitchens baffled her, and has since her childhood, but she nonetheless felt grateful for the silent solace it provided.

She opened the door, then rolled out the cart. On it, she placed the six spray bottles of high-grade cleaning solution, ten rags, and three mops. The door closed softly, and she went on her way back towards the kitchens.

As she got closer, she expected to hear the laughter clearer and clearer, except she didn’t. Gasping breaths and small spurts of laughter greeted her ears as she rounded the corner and found everyone either slumped on the floor, against the counters or on/against each other.

She cleared her throat to grab their attention. “Paladins, and Coran, when you’ve finished gathering yourselves, please clean this mess up with these supplies,” she demanded, waving at the cart in front of her.

Nerfytim’r spoke up from her position of leaning against Lance’s back. “We’ll help the Paladins. We helped create the mess, we’ll help clean it up.”

“O-Okay, then,” said Allura, “then I’ll be on the bridge.”

“We’ll join you if that’s alright, Princess,” a Tamaranean spoke from leaning against the wall.

“Entirely fine, of course,” Allura replied.

“I think we’re all gonna need showers after we clean up,” Roy stated to the room as Allura and the other three Tamaraneans left to head to the bridge.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious, never would’ve noticed,” Shiro said, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Ya don’t gotta be so salty, my man,” Lance piped up, leaning against Nerfytim’r’s back as she leaned against his.

Kori stood up, some space goo immediately dropping off her person and plopping to the ground. She offered Shiro a hand, and he took it. He nearly slid on a bit of space goo as he stood, Kori grasping his arms and him grasping back in an army grip to keep him from face-planting. A small blush crept onto his face in embarrassment.

Kori laughed. “You humans get so easily embarrassed! It’s cute to watch.”

Shiro’s blush only darkened at her comment. He found his footing, throwing a quick thank you to Kori, who turned to her Tamaranean companion and helped him up. Roy let Pidge try to help him up, getting a kick out of her frustration with being able to do nothing more than move him maybe an inch. Shiro watched the display with fondness, never thinking in a million years would something like this happen with complete strangers just after a battle. He took notice of how easy the interaction between Roy and Pidge came; he felt happy that Pidge had someone she could relate to so fast.

He turned his head towards the other side of the room, watching Hunk and Lance help their two Tamaranean companions up. A small smile tugged at his lips and he let it slip through, glad everyone got along so well. Still, his mind wandered to Keith and his well-being. The last time Keith came aboard, his eyes glazed slightly as he lost focus so often, refusing to tell anyone what happened. Kolivan acted the most sympathetic then, always hovering around Keith and never letting the youngest Blade member out of his sight. Seven months ago that happened and it still remained dominant in his mind; maybe because Shiro experienced Keith’s hostility and closedness for the first time himself in years.

He must’ve let his mind wander too deep for too long because he jolted back to reality via a mop thrown at him, hitting his nose. He caught it before it fell, taking his free hand and rubbing his nose, scrunching up his face in slight stinging pain. He looked up to see Lance snickering and Hunk looking apologetic, but an expression not matching Hunk’s chocolate eyes.

Shiro waited until Lance looked at him again, then gave Lance a brief middle finger. Shiro’s action caused the other humans (and Kori) to giggle because they all saw it; not what Shiro intended, but no one chastised him, so he let it go, leaving the Tamaraneans and Coran in bafflement.

Hunk grabbed a couple of bottles of cleaner and started spraying everywhere, the Tamaraneans each grabbed a bottle of cleaner and a couple of rags each, while Pidge grabbed a mop to join Shiro in mopping duty and Lance grabbed a couple of rags and started cleaning where Hunk sprayed. Coran grabbed the remaining bottle and rag, then started to clean one of the counters.

After Hunk satisfied himself with spraying basically every inch of the kitchens, he grabbed a couple of clothes and began to wipe down the surfaces the others didn’t occupy or reach yet. Then a thought occurs to him.

“Hey, guys,” he spoke, “how’re we gonna clean off the goo from the mops and rags?”

“We can always just squeeze them out into the attached trash can on the cart,” Roy offered after he stopped cleaning momentarily to think. _Wait, my bow and quiver are gonna be a bitch to clean out, aren’t they?_ he thought to himself. He busied himself with cleaning a counter, not wanting to think about that shit-fest.

“It’s not like there’s another option, honestly,” shared Nerfytim’r, shrugging as she worked at a particularly nasty spot on one of the walls, her mouth turning into a frown.

“I hate that she’s got a point; it’s not like we can fill a bucket with the water pouches,” Lance said, sighing dejectedly.

“No, wait, that’s exactly what we can do!” Pidge exclaimed, hugging her mop as she yelled.

“Guys, we can’t exactly waste that resource,” Shiro countered.

“Shiro, we’ll be fine until the next planet we get to that needs liberation,” Lance countered to Shiro’s counter.

Shiro lifted an eyebrow, taking in the three other Paladins’ faces each before sighing in defeat. “Fine, but I’m stacking up after you heathens do that.” He returned to his mopping.

“Hell, yeah! Pidge, c’mon!” said Lance, already taking off in the direction of the storage closet to retrieve a couple of suitable buckets for their needs. Pidge followed, stopping sooner than him at the water storage room.

Coran found the entire exchange rather amusing, so decided to stay silent on the matter.

Those that remained in the kitchens continued their work in near-silence, Hunk humming lowly to himself a tune nobody but he recognized.

***

“Will you be needing anything to borrow to repair the damage to your warship?” Allura asked absently to the Tamaraneans standing behind her.

“We have everything we need in the ship itself, so no, but thank you for the offer,” the male Tamaranean spoke up.

The group of Tamaraneans did not miss the high tension in Allura’s shoulder nor the stiffness of her back nor the fact she jutted her chin out just a little too far to be comfortable. They traded concerned looks with each other, wondering if any of them should approach her and ask her how she faired.

After a conversation with just looks and facial expressions, the male Tamaranean strode up to Allura and faced her.

“Princess, what ails you?” he inquired, arms loosely crossed over his chest and face relaxed into friendliness.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Torkmanf’r,” she responded, trying her damndest to look anywhere but his face, staring hard at the screen in front of her, but registering nothing.

“I beg to disagree, Your Highness. The tension in your shoulders and the stiffness of your back betrays you.”

“Do we have to talk about it?” Allura said, desperation and frustration leaking into her voice, causing her retort to rise in volume with each word.

“Not with us, of course, because we barely know each other. At least talk to your friends about it,” he said, voice even and calm, not the least bit offended. He unfolded his arms and let them hang loosely on either side, letting out a barely audible sigh. He began to walk back to his entourage when Allura turned around and stopped him in his footsteps with a single question: “Does it hurt?”

He turned on his heel, all three Tamaraneans’ eyes settled on Allura’s small frame. Though they lacked discernible pupils, there can be no mistake at the glint of sadness that passes their eyes in the face of impassive facial expressions. He knew what she referred to, but he asked to clarify. “Does what hurt?”

“Seeing them,” she said meekly, voice going soft and eyes downcast, “seeing your comrades as they were in the aftermath today?”

Torkmanf’r stepped towards Allura, placing one hand on her shoulder which caused her to look up and meet his eyes. The neon green orbs showed a jagged reflection of herself, but his sadness kept her gaze locked.

“It does. No matter how many times we go into battle, whether it be on a planet or in the galaxy, far from a planet’s surface, it does. You can run into a hundred battles and it wouldn’t make a difference,” he told her gently, a forlorn look on his face matching those of the other two Tamaraneans. “Have you ever experienced war?”

“We fight Zarkon and his army, helping to liberate planets. I’d say that’s a war,” Allura told him.

“Have you ever seen the bloody aftermath?”

“Not...not until today. Voltron fights the giant creatures in isolation, away from the people best we can. I’ve heard stories growing up, but now…” she trailed off, not able to finish her due to a lump catching in her throat.

“It’s always different in person when you see for yourself. Stories never capture the real thing, neither do pictures or paintings.”

“Will--” she cut herself off with a choked sob, then took a deep breath and continued, albeit her voice remained shaky. “Will you mourn them?”

“Tonight, we will, in our way. If you wish to join us, you can. The invitation is extended to the rest of your crew.”

Allura nodded, not trusting her voice. No, she had no right to cry. She didn’t know any of the fallen Tamaranean warriors, and she felt selfish. Selfish for wanting to cry, to scream in frustration. She knew war came with casualties, but she couldn’t help the feeling that if they came sooner, maybe, just maybe, they could’ve saved more than a few lives. The image of the Tamaranean floating dead in front of Voltron earlier flashed in her mind, making her sick all over again. The imagine wouldn’t leave, no matter how much she wanted it to as if her mind decided to punish itself.

Before she knew it, tears started making wet tracks on her cheeks and she rushed off of the bridge, wiping at her eyes, trying to stop crying. But she couldn’t. She started heaving, breaths heavy and eyes stinging with unshed tears. She stopped her running, then tried to breathe. In her efforts, the breath had the opposite effect--it released the floodgates.

Allura started sprinting to her room, her feet carrying her the familiar path as her tears blinded the pathway. When she got to the front of her door, placing her hand on the scanner proved more difficult than it should be; nevertheless, she got in.

She sprinted to her bed, throwing herself on the bouncy mattress and burying her face in the soft pillows. The mice climbed out of the jewelry box they claimed as their home to scurry toward Allura on her bed. They scrambled after each other up a bed frame leg, settling down on the top of the headrest. Each squeaked in rapid succession, worried for their friend.

The Altean heard the voices of the mice rattling in her head, filling her mind with questions and worry. She muffled into the pillows, her sobs finally beginning to cease. Unfortunately, that meant the horrible onslaught of hiccups. No, she didn’t possess an ethereal beauty when she cried; her eyes puffed red and her cheeks bloated just a bit.

She continued mumbling into the pillows, although the mumbling being actual words of coherency stood to be proven. Eventually, she lifted her head, then crossed her arms over each other, resting her hands on top of one another. She placed her chin on top of her hands, watching the mice who took to creating wild gestures that almost seemed too grand for their small forms. Allura’s mouth twitched into a small smile before she hiccuped.

The mice then stopped their shenanigans, looking at the princess in earnest.

“Why was I crying, you ask?” she said to them, slightly raising an eyebrow.

They all nod their heads.

“Well, I...I don’t...I don’t know,” she told them slowly, her just realizing this herself. “Maybe I do get too emotional sometimes.”

She pushed herself into a sitting position, criss-cross-applesauce and loosely hugging a pillow.

She continued. “I guess I never really knew how bad this war could get. We’ve been lucky, I guess, in not witnessing absolute destruction or a bloodbath before. Heck, the fact we’ve never been in one is terrifying. Maybe seeing such a proud warrior race get slaughtered as if they were nothing was a straw for me. Maybe I finally realized that’s what my father frequently witnessed and that maybe that could’ve happened to him and his friends.”

Her head fell, the same dead Tamaranean floated back into her mind’s eye, a now-constant reminder of the true casualties of war. When she felt little weights throwing themselves gently at her legs and arms, she realized that her mice friends could see what she saw in her mind when she failed to keep her guard up.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that awful image.”

The mice just nestled their faces into wherever they planted themselves on Allura, causing her to giggle, then hiccup immediately after. She huffed out a frustrated sigh, then proceeded to breathe in the silly way her father taught her to; while silly, she had to hand it to him that it worked, so maybe the technique proved less silly than originally thought.

Finding herself suddenly exhausted, she yawned, alerting the mice so they had enough time to scramble off so she could plop on her side and sleep. Once she made her head comfortable, she closed her eyes, still holding the pillow to her chest. The mice worked to get the blanket on her and for that, she felt grateful. Another yawn escaped her.

The mice gathered on a pillow near her head, curled up together and eyes closed.

***

The three Tamaraneans looked on after Allura, watching her swiftly exit the room. Each set of eyes fixated on the door in front of them. Unfortunately, the sound of the strangled gasps from Allura echoed the hallway and met their ears right before the door closed.

“The poor child. I would think with helping lead Voltron she would be accustomed to such violence and gore,” the other male Tamaranean spoke up from his place beside the door.

“As she said, they mostly stay in their lions and battle the big bad guy in open space,” the female Tamaranean stated. She looked at the others, exchanging looks of worry.

“Should we go get one of the Paladins? Or at least tell them?” she added as an afterthought.

“Yes, Gynfrand’r, we should,” Torkmanf’r addressed her question.

The three Tamaraneans walked out, the door opening silently as they journeyed back to the kitchens where the rest of the conscious and alive stayed to clean. The walk remained silent, soft footsteps ringing gently against their surroundings. Each person let his or her posture slouch slightly, reveling in the quiet.

When they finally did get to the kitchens, the site of everyone involved in the cleaning eating the space goo greeted their eyes as did a pristinely-clean kitchen.

Torkmanf’r calmly approached the Black Paladin and placed a hand on his shoulder. The Tamaranean leaned down next to the Paladin’s ear, painfully aware of the silent anticipation of everyone watching the interaction.

Shiro stiffened when the hand came down on his shoulder and he held down the urge to pin the man against the wall, not in annoyance, but an instinct. He made no indication that he felt the warm breath on his ear as the man crouched to whisper something in the organ, no doubt.

“Allura is not well. She ran out of the bridge crying. I believe you should check up on her,” Torkmanf’r whispered in the other man’s ear. As soon as the words left his mouth, he leaned back but left his hand where it rested on the Black Paladin’s shoulder. The Tamaranean kept his eyes trained on the man’s profile, hoping to catch the man’s eyes. The Black Paladin failed to disappoint.

“Why? What happened?” Shiro questioned, worry evident on his face. Ashamedly, his mind wasted no time in going straight to accuse the Tamaraneans of hurting her in some way. He tried his best at keeping his voice even, and he fortunately succeeded.

Gynfrand’r spoke up. “It is not our place to tell. If she wants to say, she will. I assure you, we did nothing to harm her in any way.”

“What gave you the impression I thought it was you?” Shiro shot at her defensively; he thought he hid his fleeting thought well.

She simply quirked her head. “Your body language suggests hostility and your prosthetic arm is starting to have a subtle glow to it. Are humans really that impervious to their own bodies?”

Shiro had the decency to look and feel ashamed as he gently pushed Torkmanf’r away from him. The Tamaranean obliged easily, giving the Paladin enough room to leave his seat.

As he walked to the entrance, a thought occurred to him. “Do you happen to know where she is exactly?”

“I assume you know her better than we do,” Torkmanf’r replied, an eyebrow quirking at the question as he leaned a hip against the counter.

Shiro opened his mouth, then decided to say nothing. He had to admit he had a point. He quirked a smile in Torkmanf’r’s general direction, then turned around to go find Allura. He thought that maybe her bedroom would be his best bet. His only trouble: locate her room. He sighed in annoyance, sweeping a hand through his white tuft and along the rest of his buzzcut.

Just as his left foot met the floor, he heard a squeak from above his head. He craned his neck, his eyes greeting one of Allura’s mice.

“You don’t happen to know where her room is, do you?” he questioned, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. He had a hard time accepting that out of every embarrassing thing in his life, talking to a mouse ranked number one. And he stood in the hall by himself, for God’s sake!

The mouse squeaked, then jumped down and starting running ahead. Shiro sighed, knowing a fruitless effort when he saw one. He continued walking leisurely, mapping out in his head the levels he should start with.

Incessant squeaking brought his attention to the floor, and he saw the mouse from before waving one of its paws at him, seemingly to motion him to follow. He shrugged, then followed the mouse. When he took a few steps toward it, it ran back to him, up his pant leg, and settled on one of his shoulders.

Never in all his life did something make him more uncomfortable than a mouse running up the outside of his pant leg. He couldn’t stay mad, though; the little guy felt a duty to help out his princess and he will by any means necessary.

“You want me to continue going straight?” he asked it.

It gave a small, quick squeak as a yes, tugging slightly on Shiro’s ear.

“See? That’s just rude,” Shiro expressed.

And thus began his journey of bonding with a mouse and finding Allura.

***

“Wait, so you know why she’s crying?” Lance asked incredulously, dropping his silverware into the goo bowl.

“We do, yes, or at least have an idea why,” Gynfrand’r said, slowly eating the space goo Hunk gave her.

“And you won’t tell us?”

“No. We respect the fact that sometimes people do not want everyone knowing why they cried. We view it as a breach of privacy.”

“So you won’t even tell Kori?”

“No. She understands this as much as we do, albeit her short time experiencing kindness from her planet’s race.”

Hunk’s, Lance’s, and Pidge’s eyebrows shot to their hairlines as their silverware clinked against their nearly-empty bowls.

“‘Short time experiencing kindness’? What happened there?!” Lance exclaimed.

“I was given up to the Citadel as a slave; most of my childhood consists of running my bones into the ground,” Kori replied easily, placing a bite of space goo into her mouth.

“That’s horrible! How are you so nonchalant about it!? I mean, that’s gotta be scaring. How did you escape? How did you--”

“Hunk!” Pidge interrupted him.

“Hehe, sorry, Princess.”

From his position beside her, Roy scooched closer to her, a hand resting on one of her thighs, a small gesture to let her know he’s there. He had to admit, as Hunk went on, his face took on an expression nearly filled with venom. His face eased with the apology and, true to Hunk’s observation, Kori’s face remained content, a small neutral smile playing on her lips.

“You’re quite alright. It is only natural to be curious. I’ve already told my story to my friends and current and former lover. I have no problem sharing my story,” Kori explained.

“I do have an unrelated question,” Pidge said, bringing the attention to herself. “Why do the females have a contrail thing goin’ on with the end of your hair?”

“That’s...actually a fair question,” Nerfytim’r said. “Either our scientists found out it doesn’t affect our biology and is mostly decoration or no one cared enough to find out.”

“Maybe it’s to differentiate the males from the females?” Hunk supplied.

“I thought the sexes were very distinguishable from each other; females have breasts and softer facial features,” Gynfrand’r said. “Very much similar to female human anatomy, no?”

“Oh, definitely,” Roy said.

Everyone looked at him, a mix of assumptions (Lance) and intrigue.

“What? I’m a science nerd, too. And observant. Don’t start making me out to be a pervert, _Lance_ ,” he defended himself.

Lance pouted in mock offense.

Kori smiled, planting a quick kiss on his temple.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“As you once said, because I can,” she replied.

Everyone fell back into silence, either finishing up the space goo in their bowls or staring at the emptiness, fiddling with their silverware.

Lance silently got up, collecting the dirty dishes and placing them in the dishwasher out of habit. He’s been away from his giant family for God knows how long and yet, some habits never left him.

Since Gynfrand’r and Nerfytim’r sat next to each other, Nerfytim’r turned around so the back of her head faced the other woman’s face. Gynfrand’r pulled out the hair tie that kept the hair out of the woman’s eyes and started running her hands through it, gently detangling any tangles she came across. Her nimble fingers went to work, dancing along Nerfytim’r’s thick hair.

The three Paladins left together, waving goodnight and a chorus of responses followed them out of the doorway.

Hunk and Pidge flanked Lance, walking leisurely. Lance suddenly stopped, then pulled each of them to his respective sides.

“You guys wanna make a pillow fort in the lounging area?” he whispered, excitement tickling his voice. While he felt excited, he really just didn’t want to sleep alone tonight, knowing the image of the dead Tamaranean would plague his dreams, turning them all into nightmares.

Pidge and Hunk nodded enthusiastically, both knowing the real reason Lance asked because each felt the same way, unbeknownst to the overenthusiastic Cuban.

Wordlessly they started into a sprint, veering off in various directions to retrieve various items.

Slowly, the lights in the castle grew dimmer, alerting everyone that the set rotation neared nightfall. The only hope of everyone in the castle was a good night’s sleep.

Unfortunate.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this story, please drop a comment! It'll help keep me motivated to actually finish the story! Plus, it puts everyone in a good mood. :D


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